


Roll Opening Credits

by sleepymarvel



Series: MST3k One-Shots [1]
Category: Mystery Science Theater 3000
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, Five Stages of Grief, Gen, Podfic Welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:02:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22424527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepymarvel/pseuds/sleepymarvel
Summary: Joel's first moments on the satellite and the five stages of grief.
Series: MST3k One-Shots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1444786
Comments: 5
Kudos: 23





	Roll Opening Credits

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during the first few weeks Joel is in space.

**Denial**

_This isn’t happening._

The Satellite of Love is encompassed by an eerie silence. Empty. Quiet. Colorful flashing lights. Ominous sliding Gizmonics doors. Joel can’t remember stepping off the rocket, but he’s standing on the bridge, numb and listening to the faint sounds of metal as it breaths and settles. 

Idly, Joel notices the swelling in his temple from where Doctor Forrester knocked him out. He presses his fingers to the sore spot, feels the roughly done stitches at the base of his hair line, and brings his arm back down to his side. There’s yellow bruising on his shoulder too; where the Mad injected the anesthetic.

At first Joel can’t move —

— because none of this is actually real. Right?

It’s just a prank. The scientists are hazing him again.

Unfortunately, the stars outside the bridge look exceptionally bright and real. Joel has seen the solar system wrap around him at the Museum of Science, he’s seen flashing silver stars through the sunroof of his Toyota, and neither time felt as real as it does now. 

_This isn’t happening_ , Joel thinks again, and tries to regain control over his breathing. He’s still back at Gizmonics with an old rag and a mop bucket, he’s still making inventions in the janitor’s closet on his lunch break, and he’s not trapped alone in space with just his thoughts and a floating cinema. That's just not something that happens to people. 

And if none of it is real why should he bother?

He sits on the floor in the center of the bridge and decides he won't watch the movies. He'll wait until everything returns to normal. He'll wait till Dr. Forrester explains _exactly_ what's going on. There has to be an explanation. 

Joel turns to look out the window on the left side of the satellite's bridge, stares out at the expanse of black and quiet, at the glowing stars, and wonders when he’s going to wake up from this nightmare.

**Anger**

It hits him hard when he’s lying in his bunk, thinking blankly about the terrible movie he’d just watched alone a few hours before. He’s staring up at the metal ceiling, at the distinct lack of his dollar store neon solar system, when he feels his throat tightening and heat rising in his chest. He sits up in his bed, stares at the silver wall, feels more claustrophobic than he ever has in his entire life. 

Why was this happening to him? Why did the universe decide to torture Joel Robinson? Joel Robinson who always bought girl scout cookies from the cute little kids at the mall, Joel Robinson who’d happily listen to the Christmas Carolers who’d sing outside his door, Joel Robinson who thought the Secret Santa gift he got for Dr. Forrester was actually pretty darn great.

Why him? 

He wants to scream. He wants to break something. He ends up taking it out on the wall beside his bunk. Solid steel. Ouch. 

Joel pulls his hand back and his knuckles are red and bruising. Nothing changes. He doesn’t feel any better than he did before. He ends up feeling worse. He hits the wall again, this time angry at himself, and blood pools into his palm. The satellite doesn’t break and pull him out into space. He doesn’t float back down to earth. 

Joel’s hand throbs. His knuckles are bruised and red. _He feels so stupid._

When the anger fades, Joel thinks that maybe the best way to make all of this okay is to make the best of his situation. 

**Bargaining**

Joel makes Crow first. He's using parts from the theater and drinking scotch on an empty stomach.

He briefly wonders what the parts were meant for and doesn't really care. Let Dr. Forrester get mad. What can he do worse than shoot him up into space? Conveniently, the movies still played and earth continued spinning beneath his tomb in space. 

It takes a while to get Crow right, which isn’t a problem; Joel stops halfway through to make toast and sober up. Crow is difficult and that's okay. It’s not like creating intrinsically human life is something he thought was going to be easy. Plus, the work keeps his mind occupied. 

Like flipping a light switch, Crow is born. Joel still has a piece of toast in his mouth when Crow's eyes flicker awake.

Joel thinks it’s November fifth. He wants to remember this in case his new robot friend wants a birthday party or something. He writes the date in his notepad above _Crow T Robot._

“You’re not God are you?” Are Crow’s first words, extremely skeptical.

“I don’t think so buddy.” Joel responds and he actually feels happy for the first time since being shot up into space. He can already tell that Crow is special. 

“Well, good.” Crow says, “That would be disappointing.” Joel wonders if he should be offended, but he’s not, the little bot’s sarcasm is actually endearing and will be perfect for in the theater.

Joel smiles and tries to adjust Crow’s netting, but the little bot is having his first moments and he’s having none of it. Crow tries stretching his arms out and accidently hits Joel in the face. Joel doesn’t mind, even though it really hurts. He uses his grown up voice anyway, “Hey, try to keep still when I have sharp objects near your head.”

Crow stills but doesn’t lose any of his sarcasm, “Sorry, oh wise creator, take your time. After all, this is _me_ we’re talking about. I wouldn’t want you to get distracted.”

Joel secures the netting and sits back in his chair. Crow stretches out and looks around the bridge of the satellite curiously. “Damn, you live like this?”

Joel’s half smile is full of fatherly pride. He already loves his new robot friend so much. 

“Sure do.” Joel shrugs, “How do you feel?”

“I don’t know. How would I even know what I’m supposed to feel like?” Crow looks around, processing everything. Then, “You know what? Can you make me a brother? I’ve always wanted a brother.”

“Crow, you’ve only been alive for a minute.” But Joel’s already rummaging through the box of theater parts. It’s a good idea. The less lonely the better. 

“If you don’t give me a me brother, I’m not going to school tomorrow and I’m going to sleep all day and not do any of my chores.” Crow huffs, like a little kid trying to convince his parents to give him what he wants. Joel actually laughs, good heartedly, because okay this is pretty darn goofy and cute.

“Don’t worry honey, I’ll make you a brother.” Joel places a few parts on the work bench. One of them sort of looks like a gumball machine, some black tubing, and springs. He lifts a few pieces up to the light. This might actually work. 

“Good.” Crow says, “He better be cool.” 

**Depression**

"Joel what're you doing?" Tom asks, hovering at his beside curiously. "Me and Crow wanna play real life hangman with the crash dummies in the loading bay. It's a political statement. Smash the system or something like that. Who knows. It was Crow's idea."

Joel is wrapped up tight in thick blankets, drifting in an out of awareness. He’d been dreaming that he was back home with a cup of instant noodles and a good book. He blinks, sees Tom hovering over his bed, and pulls the blanket over his head. 

"I'm sleeping, Tommy." Joel mumbles into the pillowcase. 

"Smash the system! Tear down the—" Crow appears in the doorway, excited, his long gold arms wrapped around a classic looking bullseye crash dummy. "Um, Joel. I don't think humans are supposed to be unconcious this long. Also, you're scaring Gypsy."

Joel can faintly hear Gypsy wailing from down the corridor. He surrenders and pushes the pillow aside. 

"It's distracting." Tom says as Gypsy's wailing gets louder and more dramatic, "How am I supposed to imagine I'm an executioner killing solely based off of word puzzles when you have her in a mood?"

Joel sighs, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes. The red analogue clock on his nightstand flashes with a silent missed alarm. It's three in the afternoon. He's slept for fifteen hours straight. No wonder Gypsy's so worried.

"She thinks you're dying and we'll have to give you a space burial. Like a burial at sea but with space." Crow explains, "Joel, please don't make us bury you like a space pirate."

"Yeah and if you die who will give us ram chips?" Tom adds. 

Crow jumps on board immediately, "Yeah Joel! What about our ram chips?"

"Don't worry, I'm not dying anytime soon." Joel says and thinks, _But maybe I ought to. I'm stuck up here dead or alive. Might as well come to terms with that._

"I knew it." Tom says, "Meet us in the loading bay to play crash dummy hangman. Last one there has to empty the load pans!" Tom zooms off, hovering fast out of the door and around the corner.

Crow zooms after him towards the loading bay, already prepared to argue with Tom for taking a head start on the race. 

Joel sits up in his bed and looks around the empty room. Some of his sketches would look good on the wall by the window, he thinks idly. There's a tipped over desk in the satellite's hold. It might help him feel better to start work on invention exchanges again and maybe he could haul the desk up to his cabin (with a little help from the bots, if they're able to go a couple minutes without goofing off.)

He's still wearing the same red Gizmonics jumpsuit from the previous day. He decides to take a shower. Maybe he won't comb his hair. He’s always liked leaving it a little bit messy. 

First, he needs to check on Gypsy. 

**Acceptance**

“Joel! Joel! Joel!” Tom is yelling from the bridge. Joel's still in his pajamas. He's wearing a white t-shirt and fluffy pink polka-dot pajama pants. He realizes he looks a little bit goofy, and he'd gladly put up with some ribbing from Tom and Crow, but he actually likes the pink ones a lot. They’re a perfect fit and way more comfortable than anything he had back home. Plus, Gypsy thought he looked cute and that was endearing. 

Joel's smiling when he makes it to the bridge. He's holding a mug of coffee labeled, _World's Best Grandma,_ that Crow had gave him. The bots found it on the floor in the theater back towards the projector.

“Crow said he’s going to disown me because I won’t play dress up with him!” Tom insists dramatically when he sees Joel, who's now standing by the movie theater doors. 

“It’s not dress up!” Crow snaps back. “It’s a dramatic reenactment Ronald Regan’s Berlin Wall speech! God Tom, don’t you respect history at all?”

"Crow's interpretation has no artistic integrity!" Tom declares. “If Crow respected the arts at all he’d know that.”

" _You_ have no artistic integrity!" Crow argues, "Fascist!"

"Communist!"

"Maybe you two could compromise." Joel suggests and takes a sip of his instant coffee. It's way too strong and kind of gross, but Joel feels himself waking up. He takes another sip. 

"Compromise?" Tom asks, "Is that a foreign saying? Like Deja Vu?"

"Yeah Joel. What gives? What's that mean?" Crow asks, suspicious. 

"Oh, right. I guess I didn't program you guys to understand human concepts like that." Joel pauses to think about it. Then, "Let me put it this way. You both want different things for your sketch. Why don't you decide on something that includes a little of both of your ideas?" 

Crow and Tom look at each other, at the props for their skit, then back at Joel. 

"Yeah, I don't know what any of that means." Crow finally says, "But Joel, whose side are you on?" 

Joel sighs.

"Yeah, Joel. Who's right?" Tom adds. 

Gypsy is standing just inside the bridge, listening intently and silently keeping the satellite functioning.

“I guess I'm on Gypsy's side.” Joel decides, since she’s the only one not arguing.

Gypsy gawks, happy, “Thank you, Joel! Thank you, thank you!” She looks at him and then down at his pajamas, “Joel, you look so cute!” Joel knew that was coming. He smiles again. 

“Aw, thanks sweetheart.”

"What? Joel, Gypsy doesn't even know what we're arguing about." Tom complains. 

Crow agrees instantly, “Yeah!” 

"You're just jealous." Gypsy huffs and heads off the bridge, validated. Tom and Crow pick up arguing as soon as she’s gone. 

Joel is standing on the ship’s bridge all sleepy-like, watching the two bots bicker in front of him. For some reason, everything feels like it’s going to work out. 

Sure, he hates that he's trapped up in space. He hates that he has to watch cheesy B-List movies. He hates that looming storm cloud of loneliness. Despite that, watching Crow and Servo argue over nothing, Joel thinks that maybe he actually made his own happiness.

And he can live with that. He can dig it. 

Crow and Servo start pushing each other. Maybe he should step in now. Yikes.

The next day, they’d be watching The Crawling Eye. Joel cringes, but for some reason he almost feels excited to sit down beside his new friends in the theater.

_Roll Opening Credits_

**Author's Note:**

> The hardest part was writing Joel as angry. He's just not an angry character, always very optimistic and chill. However, realistically that is an emotion anybody would feel in his situation. 
> 
> This is my longest fic yet and it took a lot of work so I really really hope you enjoyed reading. I can never write enough Joel. <3


End file.
